


You were the song stuck in my head

by bluejbird



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Unrequited Lust, minor pavel chekov/james t. kirk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-24
Updated: 2016-11-24
Packaged: 2018-09-01 22:22:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8640409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluejbird/pseuds/bluejbird
Summary: Leonard McCoy just wanted a drink. What he didn't want was to become a groupie for a local band. Or, the one where everyone except Bones is in a band, and he takes too long to realise how he feels about Spock because Jim is pretty.





	

The bar is dark, dirty, and smells like a mix of sawdust, booze, and vomit. But the drinks are cheap, and it’s exactly the right distance from the hospital – close enough that Leonard can be there within ten minutes after his shift ends, but far enough away that no one he works with is likely to stumble in.

He needs the separation from work today. To be fair, he needs it most days – working in the ER will do that to you. But today had been particularly horrendous. Two gunshot wounds, a young woman with ‘just a cold’ that turned out to be severely immunocompromised, a kid who had been abused in ways that made him shudder to think. And to top it all off, he'd been handed a bunch of bright eyed interns who actually seemed excited to be there, as if working in the ER would allow them to change the world, when in reality all they could do was try and slow the flow of bullshit that ran like a flood through the hospital doors.

So what Leonard needs is a drink or six, and then to stumble home to his tiny, shitty apartment, furnished with all the stuff Jocelyn hadn't wanted, and black out until an hour before his next shift. It’s a pattern that has worked well for him so far, and he needs it to work tonight too.

When he's on his second drink, some discordant sound comes from the direction of the stage at the very back of the bar. It's not unusual for there to be some form of entertainment – and Leonard uses the word very loosely – but he normally doesn't pay much attention. Today though, he finds himself glancing in that direction more often than usual, and once his fourth drink is in hand, he even leaves his preferred spot at the bar (located equidistant from the best place to get the bartender's attention and the restroom, and away from the harsher lights) to get a closer look. 

He's not entirely sure why. When the band actually starts to play, the music doesn't sound considerably different from the sounds of the warm up, and it's hardly the kind of thing he normally listens to anyway. But then he takes a good look at the band. The drummer is an Asian kid with seemingly endless energy as his arms fly over the kit. The keyboard player is so pale he almost seems green in the glow of the shitty neon lights, and has the worst haircut Leonard has seen – straight black bangs like someone had put a bowl on his head and gone to town with the scissors. His expression is perfectly blank, almost bored, which is the exact opposite of the bassist, a beauty with dark skin and hair, who is alternating between snarling into the microphone and smiling serenely at the crowd.

And the lead singer is drop dead gorgeous. As soon as Leonard gets a good look at the guy, he can't tear his eyes away. Sandy hair, blue eyes, a tight white t-shirt and even tighter low slung black jeans tapering into unlaced black boots. There's a shiny white guitar hanging at hip level, which is probably good because otherwise Leonard would spend his time staring at the guy's crotch, rather than his face. It's a handsome face, wide smile, full lips, and when he drops his guitar to wrap hands around the microphone, the sound that washes over the entire room is like liquid sex.

By the end of the first song, Leonard is nodding his head in time to the music. It's not exactly good, but it's not bad either, and he gets swept up in the experience. Four songs later, he's forgotten about his drink entirely, which is something that never happens until he's at least eight drinks in, when a man sidles up beside him.

“ They're a bonny wee band, eh?” the man says, with a thick accent that takes Leonard a moment to place.

“ Not bad,” he agrees, finally taking a sip of his drink.

“ Montgomery Scott,” the man introduces himself. He thrusts something into Leonard's hand. “I'm the manager. You should come to our next gig. And don't forget to like us on Facebook!”

Then he moves to the next table to repeat his spiel. 

Leonard glances down at the flier in his hand. The band is apparently called Starfleet, which he thinks is a terrible name. The flier has a weird silver logo, a link to their Facebook page, and that's about it.

Without thinking about it, Leonard pulls out his old battered iPhone and pulls up the page. He doesn't have a Facebook account – social media wasn’t exactly designed for people who very much did not want to be social – but he finds himself signing up for an account just to hit the like button. They don't seem to have that many fans, but there is a post about another show in two days time. Leonard makes a mental note – it doesn't fall during one of his shifts, so he could go, maybe – then scrolls down to look for more information. It doesn't take long to find what he wants.

James. That's the lead singer's name. Leonard says the word to himself, sounding it out. He likes how it feels on his lips. 

When Leonard looks up, the band has finished and are disappearing off stage.

He sits and nurses his drink, hoping James will wander out from backstage. But an hour passes and his glass is empty so he gets up and heads home.

That night, in bed, he thinks about James, and is half-hard remembering the sound of the kid’s voice. It's been a long time since he'd last felt this way, so he lets himself indulge in the fantasy, wrapping fingers around his dick and imagining that his hand belongs to James instead.

When he falls asleep, he's smiling, humming a few bars of one of the songs under his breath.

~~~

He's in such a good mood the next day that he almost agrees to cover a shift for Chapel without an argument, until he realises it'll clash with Starfleet's next show.

“ Since when do you have a social life?” Chapel demands, when Leonard tells her he has somewhere else to be, then shrugs and goes to find M'benga instead.

It's a fair statement. Leonard generally doesn't have any personal commitments, other than his monthly visitations with Jo. It hadn't bothered him much before, but he finds he actually enjoys the promise of something to do, even if it's just to go watch a shitty band because he's put the lead singer in his spank bank. And it's nice to make his way to a different dark, dank bar to hear them play. It’s a harmless enough hobby – drinking, bobbing his head to music, and watching the hypnotic way James’s hips gyrate on stage. 

After that, he keeps an eye on their Facebook page, smiling whenever he gets a notification of another show. He goes whenever he can, and starts to recognise several regulars at the shows, along with the manager, Scott, who gives Leonard a nod of recognition whenever he shows up. Between shows he finds himself listening to the demos they’ve uploaded to their Facebook page, earphones in his ears as he makes his way to and from work each day. The lyrics speak to him in a way that music hasn’t done since he was a teenager. There’s a sweet sadness to them, a beautiful sort of pain that Leonard can relate to more than he’d like. 

He's been following the band around the city for about six weeks when a notification pops up on his phone, announcing a ‘Very Important Gig!!!!!!’ Leonard rolls his eyes at the number of exclamation points, until he sees that the message has been signed off as 'xoxo Jim'.

Jim. The name slides off his tongue a little easier that night when he's jerking off in the shower. It's easier to say in the heat of the moment than James, which had seemed almost too grown up for the kid. In the wetness of the shower, Leonard can imagine the curled fingers of his hand are Jim's pillowy lips, and he comes hard enough that he has to rest his forehead against the cool tile for a hundred heartbeats.

When he turns up at the show, three days later, he learns why it's so special. They're opening for a band that's well known enough in the city even Leonard had heard of them. He pays the extortionate cover and snags a bottle of beer because it’s the easiest thing to order at the crowded bar. Then he finds himself a relatively quiet corner to stand in.

They sound good up on the stage. The energy between the band members is even better than usual, and Leonard wonders if the excitement of getting to play in a place like this has helped them step up their game. And even better, when their set is over and the main act is up on the stage, all four bandmembers slip out into the crowd.

Some of the other regular fans go up to congratulate them, and Leonard almost joins in. He itches to clap Jim on the shoulder and shout ‘great show’ like one or two of the others. But he’s never been brave enough to go up to them before, and he’s unlikely to start now, when there are so many people around to watch him make a fool of himself. He knows he’s bound to babble and sound like a fourteen year old instead of a fully grown man. So, instead, he hangs back and watches Jim shove his hands into his pockets as he talks to fans and swigs mouthfuls of beer.

When he gets up to go to the bathroom he purposely skirts around the mass of fans who aren't paying attention to the band on stage. But on his way back, he searches for Jim automatically, and finds the kid looking in his direction. He smiles tentatively, and Jim smiles too, and it's like there's a tractor beam pulling Leonard in. His heart is racing in his throat, and Jim is walking towards him and this is exactly like how all of his jerk-off fantasies start. 

And then Jim walks past him, shoulders colliding as he reaches for someone behind Leonard. Leonard pauses, half turns and sees a young redhead with far too much green eye makeup practically mount the singer. They begin kissing in a way that is almost indecent in such a crowded place, and their bodies brush against Leonard and he hastily moves away.

It takes a bit longer to pull his gaze away, but eventually he turns towards the bar. He feels the weight of someone’s eyes on him and when he lifts his head he finds the keyboard player watching him with dark, calculating eyes.

It takes everything Leonard has not to scowl. Instead he keeps the stupid smile plastered on his face.

“Great set, man,” he says as he passes, and the keyboard player raises both eyebrows in surprise.

“ Do you really think so?”

Leonard nods, because it's true – he's honestly impressed. “I thought the chorus in ‘Boldly go’ was really tight tonight.”

The keyboard player – Leonard wishes he'd paid more attention to members other than Jim on their Facebook page, because then he'd know the guy's name – looks pleased, his lips crooking into a tiny smile. From what Leonard has observed, he has this whole emotionless thing going on stage, and this is the most expression he’s seen. 

“I've seen you at a lot of our shows.”

Leonard doesn't know how the guy could spot him from up on stage, especially considering he's not exactly the sort of guy people would pick out amongst a crowd. But he smiles anyway. 

“It's always the highlight of my week,” Leonard says, then elbows his way to the bar. It isn't until he has a beer in hand that he realises how truthful the words had been. 

When he gets home, he purposely puts thoughts of Jim’s girl out of his head, and instead fixates on the feeling of Jim's shoulder against his own. He lets himself imagine the contact happens as Jim shoves him up against a wall and fucks him. Those thoughts keep him buoyed through a week of too many senseless deaths and pissy messages from Jocelyn, who wants him to sign the damn papers already.

The supporting gig seems to have increased Starfleet's popularity, so at the next show Leonard gets to watch Jim make out with two different girls, who get into a spat when they realise what's going on. He stays by the bar and tries not to watch the chaos. He also tries to ignore what it says about him that he has a stupid crush on some kid who’s fairly indiscriminate with where he shoves his tongue. 

“ What did you think of the new song?”

The keyboard player appears at his elbow, and Leonard tears his gaze away from where Jim seems to be trying to coax both girls into a threesome.

“ Not bad,” he answers. “What was it called? Fight the Gorn? It was different than the other songs, though.”

The other guy nods, seeming pleased. “I wrote the music,” he says, “but don't ask me what the words mean. Jim is sometimes...illogical in his lyrics. Normally the words are mine, too.”

Leonard looks at him in surprise. For some reason, he'd assumed all of the music came from Jim. He’s doodled the lyrics in the margins of journals he’d been reading, imagining Jim scribbling them down or whispering them into his ear. It’s odd to think the songs he’s grown to love so much, that speak to him so well, come from someone else. He feels a weird jolt of guilt, like he’s betraying Jim by preferring all the band’s other songs to the one he’d written. 

The keyboard player – and dammit, he really should figure out everyone else's names – seems so blank and quiet that Leonard is curious where his music comes from.

“ Impressive. I can't imagine being so talented.”

“ I'm sure you're good at...whatever it is you do.”

“ I'm a doctor,” Leonard explains. “I'm more science than arts,” he adds, tapping his head.

“ Then as a doctor, surely you’re well aware that theories of left brain/right brain dominance for creativity and science have been largely debunked, with most individuals possessing capability for both disciplines,” the keyboard player says, and Leonard blinks at him, not knowing what to say. 

He has the impression that he's seriously underestimated what he assumed were a bunch of kids with a hot lead singer, and he’s pretty sure he’s just had his M.D. and Ph.D. questioned. Normally he’d have a snappy comeback, put the kid in his place, like he does with his interns, but he’s so taken aback that he doesn’t know what to say. So he fills the silence by awkwardly introducing himself.

“ The name's McCoy. Leonard McCoy.”

“ Spock Grayson,” the keyboard player says. Leonard quirks an eyebrow in question, and Spock shrugs. “My parents were...somewhat alternative. And they spent much more time reading books on child psychology than baby names.”

“ Well, Spock, you certainly seem to be capable both in science and writing music,” Leonard says. “It's nice to meet you.” He thrusts a hand, damp with condensation from his beer, towards the other man.

Spock takes it, and there's a spark of static electricity between them that makes Leonard jump a little. Spock shakes his hand firmly, then lets it drop.

“ Thanks for coming tonight,” Spock says, and Leonard opens his mouth, when his phone vibrates. 

He glances at it, then sets his beer down. He's not on duty, but one of the interns is freaking out and he needs to go.

He throws an apologetic look in Spock's direction. “Idiots to deal with,” he says as way of explanation. I'll see you next time?” He doesn’t mean for it to come out as a question – of course Spock will be there at the next show, although much less likely to waste his time talking to an odd, grumpy, older fan. So he walks away before he can see Spock’s reaction. 

“ Goodbye, Doctor McCoy,” Spock calls after him.

~~~ 

But Leonard doesn't make it to the next show. There's a massive gang shooting and he's got his hands inside someone's intestines, blood staining his scrubs, at the exact time Starfleet are heading on stage. He feels a moment of sadness, then reminds himself he's a doctor, not a damn hipster, and goes back to saving lives.

Two of the three men he works on survive, but the other dies in surgery, and he goes home to shower and get the stench of blood and death off his skin. He tries to interest his dick with mental images of Jim strutting on stage, but it insists on staying limp, and he falls into bed and sleeps without dreaming.

He makes it to the next show. It's been a hell of a week – he'd signed the damn papers but then Jocelyn had come back and said she'd changed her mind, wanting more alimony. For someone who shared his life for so many years, she still didn't seem to understand how much a doctor at an inner city hospital made. It made him wonder if all the times she'd looked at him in the happy times, back when he’d been studying and working ridiculous hours, she'd only had dollar signs in her eyes. What a disappointment he must have been for her. 

He’s tired of being seen that way. 

The whole week has left him restless and overly cocky, so when Jim steps off stage, Leonard intercepts him before he can make his way into the ever-growing crowd of nubile young groupies.

“ Hey,” he says, eloquently. 

Jim's got a post-gig euphoric smile stuck on his face, and when he turns that grin towards Leonard it makes him feel like he's staring into the sun. 

“Hey man!” Jim says, clapping him on the shoulder. 

The touch, combined with Leonard’s internal frustration makes him brave.  “ That was amazing. You're amazing up there.”

“ Thanks,” Jim says. He's a little breathless, and Leonard wonders if this is how he'd sound after a good hard fucking.

“ Look, can I buy you a drink?” Leonard asks quickly, before he can chicken out.

He feels Jim's eyes slide down his body, then back up. It makes Leonard want to squirm. He’s not used to such scrutiny. It’s not that he minds being centre of attention, but normally it’s in response to his medical skills, not his body. Without meaning to he holds his breath, sucking in his stomach, broadening his stomach. 

He sees the moment of contemplation on Jim's features, and his hopes soar for a moment. And then Jim’s eyes cut past Leonard.

“ Maybe some other time.” 

Leonard searches Jim's face for a hint of apology, or a hint of truth to say he actually means it, but Jim's already forgotten about him, turning away. A pretty young thing slips up against him and whispers something in Jim's ear. His hand slides down into the waistband of her jeans as they turn away and slip into the crowd.

Embarrassed, rejected, furious with himself, Leonard decides to head straight for the exit. But Spock appears out of the crowd, holding out a beer. And Leonard takes it like it's a lifeline, barely managing to mumble a thank you.

He skulks away to a corner to drink, Spock following behind him. Leonard is grateful for the darkness of the room. He's sure his cheeks are burning a painfully bright red. He isn’t a stranger to rejection. He knows he's not much of a catch either on paper – who wants a semi-alcoholic, fully workaholic underpaid doctor – or in person. He's not 'put a paper bag over his head' ugly, but he's hardly drop dead gorgeous either. Even prepared for it,  the rejection stings.

Spock doesn't say anything as Leonard takes long pulls of his beer. His eyes rove the room, and he sees Jim break away from the girl. It occurs to him suddenly that he's only ever seen Jim with women. It lifts his spirit for a moment; rejection sucks, but if Jim isn't into guys, then it's nothing personal. He feels a moment of relief, and his shoulders straighten.

“ Oh no,” Spock says softly. 

There’s something about Spock’s tone that draws Leonard's attention. Spock looks worried, and he's signalling at the drummer, Hikaru (Leonard had made a point of learning his and Nyota's names after Spock had introduced himself, because what sort of fan was he if he only knew the lead singer’s name?), who immediately begins to weave his way through the crowd. It takes Leonard a moment to realise that Hikaru is zoning in on a guy with a head of curls and a baby face.

As Leonard watches, Hikaru steps in front of him and puts a hand on his chest. They argue for a moment, then the kid pushes the drummer aside.

“ Who's that?” Leonard asks. Spock takes a half step towards the crowd, then stops, turning back.

“ Jim's on-again off-again boyfriend,” he explains. “I warned Jim that Pavel would be back, and that he couldn't keep up with this –” he stops suddenly, and Leonard twists his head just in time to see Pavel punch Jim in the face. The whole room seems to go still and silent, enough to hear Pavel spit, “Asshole,” in Jim's now bleeding face.

Leonard starts forward, a step behind Spock. He's ready to check for a broken nose, or broken metacarpals, already slipping back into doctor mode. But then Pavel crowds close to Jim and starts kissing him. Jim's hand rucks up the back of Pavel's shirt and then they're moving towards a wall, and Leonard is pretty sure Pavel's hand is down the front of Jim's pants.

He looks away, turning back to his beer. He’s seen enough to know that Jim isn't straight. He's just not Jim's type. And, sure, he doesn't want to get in the middle of whatever the fuck the relationship between Jim and Pavel is, but the hurt, the self-pity, the rejection and why-not-me of it all is back with avengeance. He finishes his drink in two big gulps, and turns back to Spock.

“ I feel like getting shit-faced,” he says, too brightly. “Want to join me?”

He doesn't wait for an answer, just stumbles off, then returns with a bottle of tequila and two shot glasses.

And Leonard doesn't remember the rest of the night at all.

~~~

Leonard wakes up to the smell of something delicious and bacon-y. It takes him a moment to realise he's lying on top of the covers in his bed, fully dressed except for his shoes. He sits up quickly, and instantly regrets it. The room spins. His head pounds. He flings his hand out for his phone to figure out what time it is – luckily he's on the late shift, and the light streaming through his window tells him he's not late for work, at least – and narrowly misses knocking over a glass of water. Beside it are two aspirin and Leonard swallows them down gratefully. His mouth feels parched, and when he's drained every drop of water from the glass, he forces himself up to seek some more.

He pads out towards the kitchen and the smell of food, then stops in surprise when he sees Spock standing by the stove wearing an apron and brandishing a spatula. Leonard hadn't been aware he possessed either item, but they must have been things Jocelyn hated.

“ What are you doing here?” he blurts out, and Spock turns, one half of his mouth pulling into a smile. Why Leonard is surprised to see anyone there just proves that it doesn’t matter how many degrees you have or how smart you think you are, it’s hard to put two and two together when you’re this hungover. He doesn’t know where he’d thought the aspirin and food smells had come from – the hangover fairy, maybe – but he definitely hadn’t expected this. 

“ Good morning, Leonard,” Spock says, sliding something onto a plate,  then onto the counter. He gestures for Leonard to sit, and puts a cold glass of orange juice in front of him. Leonard drinks it and stares down accusingly at the plate in front of him.

“ This isn't bacon,” he says. His head is throbbing and the smells don’t seem to match what he’s staring at. 

Spock looks mildly amused. “No, I went out and bought some Facon this morning while you were asleep. I'm vegan,” he adds, by way of explanation.

Leonard opens his mouth to argue about how stupid that is, and how delicious meat is, but he doesn't want to sound like a dick, and his mouth is watering, stomach grumbling. The fake bacon sits between two slices of some suspiciously healthy looking bread. Leonard lifts the sandwich to his lips, sniffing warily, then takes a bite. It's so delicious, and he's so hungover, that he can't help the satisfied moan that rumbles in his throat.

The sound seems to make Spock happy. He sits opposite Leonard with his own sandwich, and they eat in silence. When his sandwich is gone, Spock transfers half of his perfectly cut sandwich onto Leonard's plate.

“ Why are you doing this?” Leonard asks, wincing at how rude that sounds. A worrying thought hits him. “Um, last night...did we...?”

“ Have to take a cab to your apartment because you were too drunk to walk straight?” Spock fills in. “Yes. And then I took off your shoes, put you to bed, and slept on the sofa. It's surprisingly comfortable,” he adds. That's something Leonard knows is true – he'd spent many a night on it when it had sat in the middle of his and Jocelyn's lounge, and has since slept there on occasion when he was so drunk or bone weary he couldn't make it into the bedroom.

“ You didn't have to do that,” Leonard says, staring at the last bite of his sandwich for far longer than necessary.The previous night's events start to flood his memory, and he feels the pain of being overlooked all over again. He'd made a fool of himself in front of Jim. 

“ I wanted to,” Spock says, and Leonard looks up at him, giving a half-hearted smile. “Anything for our number one fan.” There’s a careful lightness to Spock's tone that Leonard doesn't understand. Whatever it means, Leonard knows he should be grateful that someone cares enough to make sure he got home in one piece. This isn't the sort of city you wanted to wander around in, black out drunk. He’s lucky he hadn’t ended up in his own hospital, being treated by one of his idiotic interns, or worse, one of his idiotic and cocky colleagues.

“ Thanks,” he says, avoiding Spock’s gaze. He polishes off the last of the sandwich, and the throbbing in his head subsides enough that the daylight isn’t as soul destroying as it had been initially. “Look, do you want to go and get a coffee or something? The stuff I have here is shit. I'm not normally home enough to cook much.”

Spock's face goes as blank as it always was on stage. Then he shakes his head. “I have to get to class,” he says, glancing at his watch.

Leonard raises a brow, about to ask what he's studying, but Spock carries on.

“ Tomorrow maybe?”

Leonard thinks about his schedule. “I get off shift at 8am,” he says, and when Spock doesn’t look horrified at how early that is, he suggests a little coffee shop close to the hospital. He doesn't expect Spock to agree, but the other man does, and then slips out of the apartment. Leonard throws himself into the shower to wash off the smell of tequila and regret, and very carefully doesn't think about Jim at all.

The next morning he's halfway home when he realises he's supposed to be at the coffee shop.

“ Sorry, sorry, sorry,” he says, barreling into the shop and into the seat opposite Spock, ten minutes late.

Spock is reading something on a tablet, but he puts it down to smile at Leonard.

“ There is no need to apologise,” he says. “I've been keeping myself suitably occupied.”

Leonard glances at the tablet long enough to get an idea of the subject.

“ Physics?”

Spock nods. “Theoretical.”

Leonard gives a low, appreciative whistle. “Beauty  _ and _ brains,” he says, then asks Spock what he wants to drink and goes to the counter to order. It's only as he's making his way back, two mugs of coffee clutched in his hand, that he questions what he'd said. He assumes Spock knows he's a handsome man though – all of the band are very good looking, in the grand tradition of most bands in the history of ever. He doesn't know why he said it though, other than to cover his surprise that Spock is smarter than he would have expected. Leonard has never considered musicians to be exactly cerebral, which is maybe terribly unfair. In Leonard’s defense, he doesn’t consider half of the people he works with to be very cerebral either, and that includes a handful of neurosurgeons. So.

Spock doesn’t mention the off-hand comment when Leonard gets back, and they sit and sip coffee mostly in silence.

Eventually, Leonard asks Spock about his studies, and learns that Spock is taking classes in physics, chemistry, maths and biology. Leonard jokingly offers him help with the biology component if he needs it, and Spock seems pleased by the offer, flushing a little when he says they're working on an anatomy module at the moment, and he'd be grateful for any help. Leonard bites his tongue against the innuendo that threatens to spill out, and wonders what the hell is wrong with him that he can’t have a normal conversation with another person. 

When Spock asks about Leonard’s time in college, Leonard tells him about the joys of medical school, including a semi-embarrassing story or two that make Spock laugh into the soy foam on his latte. They talk briefly about their families – Leonard says he's divorced and has a kid, and leaves it at that. Spock mentions a half-brother, but there's a tone to his voice that makes Leonard hesitate to ask further.

“ How long have you been in the band?” he asks, looking for something safe to discuss.

Spock stares out the window for a moment in contemplation. “Two years, three months and 8 days,” he says, very precisely. “In its current incarnation, at least. Nyota and I dated many years ago, and played in a different band together. When that band broke up, so did we, but we remained friends. Hikaru joined next, and then we advertised for a singer.”

“ And that's how you met Jim?” Leonard keeps his voice even. Despite the wave of embarrassment he feels when he thinks of Jim, his ridiculous crush is still there, hiding underneath the foolish feeling. He doesn’t want to make it obvious to Spock.

Spock nods. “We were not fond of each other at first,” he says. “I found him...reckless. Arrogant. Immature. But over time I found him to be brave and thoughtful, and now he's like a brother. An annoying one, but family anyway.”

Leonard huffs out a short laugh. “That must be nice.” He hates that he sounds wistful. It’s been a long time since he’s felt like that with anyone. 

Spock nods in agreement. They talk for a bit longer, and Leonard learns that his apartment is closer to campus than where Spock lives with the rest of the band. Without meaning to, he offers the use of the sofa when Spock needs it.

Spock looks surprised, both brows disappearing up underneath his bangs. “Are you certain?”

Leonard hesitates, then shrugs. He can't take the offer back, now that it's been made, and he remembers the pain of ridiculously early classes and the six a.m. alarms that would get him there on time. “You said yourself that it was comfortable,” he says, and suddenly Spock is thanking him almost shyly, and they're swapping phone numbers.

He doesn't expect Spock to take him up on the offer, but later that week a text comes through saying he has an 8am test. And Leonard is so outraged on Spock's behalf – what sort of bone-headed professor would do that to their students? – that he immediately agrees.

For the next month, he sees Spock three or four times a week. At Starfleet shows, where he very carefully avoids staring at Jim too much. Passed out on his sofa when Leonard comes in from a late shift, the key Leonard had given him to make life simpler sitting neatly on the coffee table. For coffee, or lunch, and even once for dinner.

Leonard finds he likes the company. For all that he claims he hates people, living alone is a loneliness that he doesn’t always enjoy. Having another person in the apartment, even sporadically, results in a pleasant background hum, and he finds it’s easier to sleep when Spock is in the next room. There’s something reassuring about seeing almond milk in the fridge and a notepad with carefully written lyrics on the kitchen counter, a stack of textbooks beside the couch, and a pair of carefully unlaced converse sneakers by the front door.  

Plus he just likes Spock. He likes the person that Spock is. Spock has a dry wit that surprises him when he least expects it, and a fascination with broadening his own knowledge that Leonard admires. Leonard is a single-minded sort of guy, which means he’s an expert and perfectionist in his work, but he often misses out on things that are on the edges of where his focus lies. Amongst other flaws, it’s probably something that was at the root of his problems with Jocelyn.

He finds himself talking about her more than he'd expected, and Spock is there the day that he signs the last of the goddamn papers. The finality of the divorce being done is both a weight lifting off his shoulders, and a heavy pressure sitting on his chest. Spock takes one look at him, puts down the folder of notes he’s studying from onto the pile that has collected beneath Leonard's coffee table, and takes him to the closest bar.

The band playing are shit compared to Starfleet, but the whiskey is fiery and bitter, and quenches the pain that shoots through Leonard whenever he thinks of his now (finally, thankfully, blessedly, officially) ex-wife.

As Leonard reaches for another drink, off balance and distracted, he slips from the stool he’s perched on. Before his face can smash against the bar, Spock's arms catch him under the armpits, lifting him up with a surprising strength. It gives Leonard time to find his feet, and stand under his own power. But it brings their bodies together, faces so close that Leonard can see there are streaks of hazel in Spock's eyes, like a supernova burning in the darkness of the room.

A tiny movement draws Leonard's gaze downwards, in time to see Spock's tongue flick out to wet his chapped lips. Leonard realises they're close enough to kiss. It would be almost too easy to sway forward, to press their lips together, to sink into a contact that Leonard hasn't had since the separation.

He knows it's a terrible idea. He knows this will probably fuck up the best friendship he's ever had. Fuck, it's the best relationship he's ever had full stop, and when he thinks about it, that's the saddest thing he's ever heard – that a keyboard player from a band he likes who crashes at his apartment a couple of times a week and has coffee with him is the closest he's ever come to someone who gives a shit about him and wants to spend time with him. But he's tempted. So, so tempted. He’d be lying to himself if he pretended his eyes aren’t always fixed on Spock now rather than Jim, even if it’s sometimes just to avoid reliving his embarrassment. But when he looks at Spock, there’s an attraction there that Leonard can’t deny. 

Spock is looking at him steadily, almost like a challenge.

Fuck it, Leonard decides. And leans in.

“ Spock!”

The familiar voice makes him rock back on his heels, and Spock twists quickly, letting his arms fall from Leonard’s sides.

Jim is standing a bit further down the bar, waving at them. Beside him is Pavel, who looks bored.

Spock waves in hello, but Jim's managed to get the bartender's attention too, and he's leaning across the bar, holding out some money as he asks for a drink. As he stretches, his shirt rides up, and Leonard's gaze is drawn automatically to the patch of tanned skin and trail of hair leading down into his jeans. Leonard swallows, pushing away the feeling of lust that still slips through him when he looks at Jim. It’s so different to what he feels when he’s caught a glimpse of Spock asleep on the couch, shirt rucked up, peaceful innocence on his face. And the difference in feeling confuses him. 

He pulls his gaze away, back to Spock, who is looking between him and Jim with slightly narrowed eyes. Then his expression goes perfectly, infuriatingly blank.

“ We should go,” he says, voice oddly hollow. “I have studying to do.”

Whatever the moment between them had been, it is gone now, and Leonard wishes it could come back. For as much as he's fallen head over heels for Jim, he hates the kid, just a little, for turning up unexpected and unwanted.

He doesn't protest when Spock moves away from the bar, just puts his drink down and follows behind. And when they get to his apartment and Spock makes up an excuse to leave, he doesn't say a thing, not even when he realises the notes Spock's been using, that he needs for the next day, are still sitting on his living room rug.

He doesn't hear from Spock for two days, and there's no show scheduled this week. His apartment is too quiet without him, too empty, and Leonard spends more time at work than he should. At home, he sits at the kitchen counter and eats stale bagels for breakfast and reads snatches of lyrics written on a scrap of paper in Spock’s absurdly perfect handwriting. 

_ In critical moments, men sometimes see exactly what they wish to see. _

And...

_ Having is not so pleasing a thing after all as wanting. _

And...

_ You almost make me believe in luck. _

Leonard doesn’t know what any of it means. He doesn’t know what inspires Spock to write. Doesn’t know what goes on inside Spock’s head. But he wishes he did. Because then maybe he’d understand why he’s gone. 

He misses Spock, he realises, and isn't sure why Spock's AWOL. A small, scared part of him thinks of the almost-kiss, and also of Spock mentioning he'd dated Uhura. Spock hadn't struck him as homophobic in any way – he'd said Jim was like a brother to him, after all – but they weren't exactly living in the most enlightened age, and it was a worry that curled in his stomach, just as it had done when he'd confessed his bisexuallity to Jocelyn, and she'd later thrown it back at him when filing for the divorce. If that's why Spock is avoiding him, then he needs to know. So on the morning of the third day, when he still hasn't heard anything, he bites the bullet and makes first contact.

There's an art show on Saturday afternoon that he knows Spock wants to see, so he rearranges his schedule, calling in a favour with a not very happy Chapel, then texts Spock to invite him to go. Three hours pass before he gets a response.

_ I accept the invitation _ .

From anyone else, it would be terse, but it's pretty much what Leonard would expect from Spock, and it makes a warm feeling spark in his chest. He's looking forward to it – to seeing him, to apologising for whatever it is that he's done to fuck everything up, to things getting back to normal.

And of course, just like everything in life he looks forward to, Jocelyn has to fuck it up.

Five minutes into the conversation with her, he's wishing he hadn't picked up the phone. One day he’ll learn to hit ignore whenever her name flashed up on his phone, but today is not that day, and his worry about Joanna will always trump his confused and angry feelings towards his ex-wife. 

Jocelyn shoots down every protest he has, insisting that he takes Jo this Saturday, rather than next. Leonard reminds her of the court order, that the visitation dates are set, but she's not in the mood to listen. Eventually, Leonard gives in, but negotiates actually taking his daughter out for the day, instead of sitting awkwardly in the den of the house he'd paid for, where Jocelyn now lives with her new boyfriend. She grudgingly agrees, and hangs up leaving Leonard to feel like he's run a marathon barefoot over hot coals.

He sits and thinks about how to explain all of this in a text to Spock for at least an hour, typing words out and deleting them.

Eventually Leonard gives up and calls him.

Spock sounds surprised when he answers, although whether that's from the call being from Leonard, or the fact that apparently no one besides Leonard uses their phones for actually calling people anymore, he can't tell.

“ Look,” Leonard says, cutting straight to the point. “It's about our...” he almost says 'date', which would be a terrible idea if Spock is feeling uncomfortable about Leonard's sexuality, even if it isn't actually a date, “...plans for Saturday.”

“ You're cancelling,” Spock says, voice blank.

“ Yes,” Leonard says, hoping his tone conveys his disappointment and regret. “I'm sorry. Jocelyn's being difficult. She's swapped my day with Jo to this weekend instead of next, and I know what she's like – if I said no, she'd make sure I didn't see her until next month, and it's hard enough only seeing her once a month as it is.”

On the other end of the phone, he hears Spock let out a long slow breath. “I understand,” he says.

Leonard sighs in relief. “She's letting me take her out for the day, so I thought a picnic in the park would be nice.”

“ That sounds very...enjoyable,” Spock says.

“ So do you think you can meet us there, say eleven?”

Spock doesn't answer for a long moment, and Leonard pulls the phone from his ear to make sure the call hasn't dropped.

“ Spock?” he says, when he's sure they're still connected. “Are you there?”

“ You want me to spend the day with you and your daughter?”

Leonard panics for a moment, wondering if he's done the right thing – that perhaps Spock had only reluctantly agreed to go to the art show because it was something he'd do anyway, and that he wouldn't want to do anything as silly as have a picnic in the park.

Before he can say anything, Spock continues, tone much softer. “I'd...I'd like that very much,” he says.

Leonard huffs out a sigh of relief. “Great!” he says, and they arrange a place to meet.

~~~

On Saturday, Leonard is late as usual, except this time definitely isn't his fault. He'd turned up to get Jo, and Jocelyn had demanded to know all the details of where they'd be going. When he'd accidentally mentioned Spock, Jocelyn's eyes had burned angrily.

“ I don't want you taking our daughter to meet your new boyfriend,” she'd spat.

Leonard choked down a laugh as he'd explained all of the ways that Spock was very definitely not his new boyfriend, and bit his tongue to point out that Jocelyn had had no issue with Jo meeting her new boyfriend. Eventually Jocelyn had relented, and they arrive only fifteen minutes late.

Spock seems relieved to see them, as if he'd thought they wouldn't show. He's oddly formal when Leonard introduces him to Jo, offering her his hand to shake.

“ Are you my daddy's new boyfriend?” Jo promptly asks, and Leonard wishes the grass that he'd just carefully laid the red-and-white checkered cloth on would open up and swallow him whole.

“ Four year olds,” he laughs awkwardly, but Spock just gives Jo a contemplative look.

“ That is an accurate assumption,” he says seriously. “I am his friend, and I am a boy.”

Jo seems to accept this as an answer, and hungrily dives into the food Leonard's been setting out. With her distracted, Leonard casts a smile towards the other man.

“ Nicely handled,” he says, and Spock smiles back. “You're good with kids.”

Spock raises a single eyebrow. “I know how to handle Jim. The principle is not entirely different.”

It makes Leonard laugh, but Spock's words are at odds with the picture of Jim he has in his head. In his mind, Jim is confident and together, sex and intelligence and poise. It's been a while since he's daydreamed about the man – because the embarrassment of rejection is dulled but present enough that he just can’t find any joy in it anymore – but that's the persona he exudes on stage, seemingly different to the man Spock occasionally mentions.

When they're finished eating, they play catch and hide and seek and tag, and Jo giggles, and Spock’s lips quirk, and Leonard feels truly happy for the first time in ages. It makes his heart ache to end it, to have to go back to the reality of Jo living with her mother, and Leonard living alone. When they say goodbye, he watches Jo wind her skinny arms around Spock’s neck, enjoys the pleased surprise on Spock’s face. 

When he gets back to his apartment he feels emotionally drained from Jo’s teary goodbyes and Jocelyn’s cold eyes. Spock is there with containers from his favourite local take out place, and they sit in companionable silence and watch TV, and when Leonard says, “God, I miss her when she's not with me,” Spock reaches over and places a comforting hand on his arm until Leonard needs to move to grab the last spring roll.

He wishes he had the words to tell Spock how grateful he is that he’s there, that he’s not alone, that Spock seems willing to get past whatever weirdness had passed between them. 

~~~ 

Things go back to their old routine, although they never discuss the almost-kiss, or why Spock had disappeared without a word for two days. But Leonard isn't going to complain, because he has his friend back. And it’s even better than it was before. They're together now more days than they're not. Unless Leonard is working, or Spock has class or rehearsal, they find a few hours to hang out, even if it's just for a quick coffee before dashing off to their respective commitments.

His name is on the guest list for shows now, and occasionally Scott recruits him to help on the merch table. It makes Leonard weirdly proud that Starfleet are big enough that people are actually willing to pay money for demo CDs they’ve cut, covered in artwork drawn by Hikaru. They’re big enough to have shirts with their logo printed on it, and Leonard even has his own shirt that he refuses to wear in public, but occasionally sleeps in when Spock isn’t around. He thinks the blue suits him, even though it does remind him of Jim’s eyes more than he’d like. Not that he really thinks of Jim much anymore. Their paths barely cross, and Leonard’s attention is focused on Spock when he watches the stage now. He admires how serene Spock always looks, how in control compared to the wild abandon of his bandmates. When he hears the lyrics fall from Jim’s lips, he looks at Spock’s face and marvels at how Spock’s brain can come up with such clever words that so often hit him in the gut. 

Between sets, he grumbles and protests about helping out, but really doesn't mind at all. Leonard likes to feel like he's helping Spock as much as Spock helps him. His apartment has never been so clean, and there's actually edible food in the fridge, and decent coffee in the machine. He’d always seen his apartment as a consolation prize, a place to refuel and rest between work shifts. Now it actually feels like a home. 

Spock’s there the day that a call comes through to say they've been signed by a label – a low level, local one, but still, a label who wants them to record a real record in a real recording studio, not some shitty recordings that Spock fixes up on his laptop and burns onto CDs for sale. 

Leonard throws his arms wide in congratulations, and Spock steps into them before Leonard can think anything of it. Spock's grip is enough to make his ribs creak, but he doesn't complain. He mutters things like, “you deserve this,” and “so proud of you,” into Spock's ear, and grins at him when Spock pulls back enough to see his face.

Spock may not be the most expressive man Leonard’s ever met, but he’s learned how to read the subtle changes. For him, a smile is a quirk of corners of his lips, surprise is a raised brow, confusion is a slight drawing down of both brows. Large facial movements just aren't Spock, and although it’s frustrating at times, Leonard has come to accept that it’s the way he is, just like Spock seems to have accepted the emotional outbursts that Leonard can’t always contain inside when he’s frustrated or angry. 

Spock’s face had shown complete shock at first after the phone call, but now there’s a smile growing on his face. Leonard waits for it to stop, like it always does, just enough of a hint of happiness that it will make Leonard smile back automatically. But the smile grows and grows until it’s practically a grin, and Leonard can see dimples threatening to form. 

Leonard has always thought Spock was handsome, but now, like this, with happiness radiating off him, Spock is beautiful. 

They stare at each other, until Spock's smile starts to fade. A seriousness washes over him, and his eyes are fixed somewhere below Leonard's nose, above his chin. Leonard wants to squirm away. He remembers the last time they were this close, and the terrible feeling of loneliness afterwards. But for a moment – an awful, wonderful moment – he thinks Spock is about to kiss him. It makes his heart race, and he wonders if Spock can feel how his pulse quickens in anticipation.

Spock’s phone rings, cutting through the silence. Spock's arms fall away so he can reach into his back pocket for his phone, and then there’s a distance between them, and Leonard misses the heat of Spock’s body. 

“ Hi Jim,” Spock says, and turns away just in time to miss Leonard roll his eyes heavenwards and curse Jim's bad timing.

When Spock hangs up, the seriousness is gone and the happy expression is back. 

They have another gig – bigger than any they've played before. 

“I’ll be there,” Leonard says, squeezing Spock’s shoulder in congratulations, trying to dampen down his disappointment that the moment between them, whatever it was, whatever it would have been, is gone. He’s pleased for Spock, proud of him and the band for the well deserved success. 

Later, he checks the date of the show against his schedule, and dread sinks in. He’s scheduled for back to back shifts, and he groans. Leonard messages Chapel, M'benga, and any other doctor he thinks either owes him one, or might be a soft touch. He begs and wheedles and bargains. But no dice.

“ I'll be at the next one,” he promises, but he can tell Spock is disappointed.

~~~

The night of Starfleet's big show is depressingly quiet in the ER. Leonard treats a college student with a hangover, a broken finger, and an ingrown toenail. He knows he should be glad that people are staying safe, aren’t needing emergency services, but he can’t help but be resentful about being stuck at work and not at the show. 

Every time he glances at the clock, he wonders how it’s going. He checks his phone, almost obsessively, hoping for a message from Spock. He thinks about the nervous energy inside Spock that morning, when he’d awoken at 6am to find Spock doing an intensive spring clean of the apartment. Leonard had watched him from the doorway of his room, wanting to reach out, to tell him it would be okay, that he shouldn’t worry. Instead he’d padded into the kitchen and turned on the coffee machine, and Spock had shot him a wordless but grateful look. 

Just before midnight, Leonard is paged to meet a patient being brought in via ambulance. The man on the stretcher is clearly drunk, and has so much blood on his face that it takes Leonard a moment before recognition strikes. Jim.

Panic rips through him. His heart is racing with worry about Spock, and even though he needs to concentrate on his patient, he looks behind them desperately. There's no one else there.

“ What happened?” he barks. Jim looks up at him, a ridiculous smile on his face, but says nothing.

“ Bar fight,” the emergency medic says, “it looks like he took a glass bottle to the face.”

“ Was anyone else injured?” Leonard asks. He looks down at Jim. “Was Spock injured?”

A flash of recognition appears under the blood on Jim's face, but before he can speak, a nurse appears at his elbow.

“ Do you know this man?” she asks, and Leonard doesn't know how to answer. He knows who Jim is, knows the version of Jim that had lived in his fantasies all those months ago, knows the man that Spock mentions occasionally in conversation. It makes Leonard realise how little he knows. 

“ His name is Jim,” he says simply, and then he's busy getting Jim into a room, and cleaned up.

Once the blood is gone, Leonard can see the wound. It's gaping and open, and has missed Jim's left eyeball and some fairly important nerves by barely millimetres. He numbs the area with a syringe, and Jim finally seems to come out of his drunken stupor.

“ Ow, dammit!” he exclaims, trying to get off the bed, but Leonard pushes him back down. He begins to suture Jim up. He remembers a time when he’d have given almost anything to have Jim lying on a bed underneath his careful touch. It seems like a lifetime ago, as if the fantasy belongs to someone else. 

“ What happened?” he asks, trying to sound patient, trying not to shake Jim by the shoulders and demand to know again whether Spock's okay.

Jim's eyes fix on Leonard's face. He slurs something out, but all Leonard can pick up is 'bones'.

“ What?” he demands, giving up on being patient. A pleasant bedside manner has never been his thing – which is why working in the ER suits him, flitting from patient to patient, focusing on the physical, leaving the emotional side of things to nurses and interns. It always takes so much energy to plaster a smile on his face and let the concern he genuinely feels seep through, and Leonard doesn’t have any energy to spare tonight. It’s all being used up by his worry. 

The stern tone he uses seems to wake Jim up.

“ I know you,” Jim says, frowning a little. He seems confused and disoriented and his pupils are more blown than Leonard likes to see in a patient with Jim’s injuries. “You're the guy who bones Spock, right?”

Leonard frowns at him, but ignores the question for now. “Is Spock okay?” he presses.

Jim seems confused by the question. 

“Why wouldn't he be?” He's quiet for a moment, then seems to register that Leonard is shoving a needle in and out of his skin. “Oh, this? Ha, it was an awesome fight. There were three of them, and I would have taken them, if the third guy hadn't smashed a bottle and stuck me with it.” 

He seems almost amused, which infuriates Leonard. As relieved as he is to know that Spock is probably okay, he has a distaste for people who are wantonly reckless with their health.

“ You're damn lucky,” Leonard says. “Half an inch and you'd have lost your eye, or control of the muscles around your mouth, which would make singing difficult. As it is, you’ll be lucky to walk away with a wicked scar.”

Jim grins. “Wicked,” he repeats, changing the tone and meaning of the word entirely. Leonard looks at him like he’s an idiot, unable to hide his reaction. “Awesome. I've always thought a scar would look good on me.”

“ Are you insane?” Leonard asks, even though that's something he's absolutely not permitted to ask a patient. Jim just grins at him and Leonard stops himself from rolling his eyes.  

He finishes the sutures, and sits back to check his work. It's as neat as possible, considering the circumstances. He thinks that perhaps a plastic surgeon could minimise the scarring further, so he makes a note of it on Jim's chart.

“ You are that guy, right?” Jim asks, while Leonard is scribbling on the chart. “The one Spock is boning.”

“ Why do you say that?” Leonard asks, only half listening as he fights the desire to write 'reckless idiot' under cause of injury on Jim's chart.

“ Well, you're dating him. And he spends half of the week at your place instead of ours. And he's pretty much completely in love with you,” Jim says. His eyes are half closed, and Leonard can tell the adrenaline from the fight is starting to wear off. Which is fine, because Leonard’s own adrenaline levels soar in response to Jim’s words. 

Leonard takes a deep breath and puts the chart away. He wants to ask Jim to clarify what the fuck he's talking about, but Jim's eyes flutter shut and a moment later a snore slips from his mouth.

Rolling his eyes, Leonard closes the curtain around his bed, and heads towards ER reception. He rolls Jim’s words around in his head – Spock is in love with him, and everyone (well, Jim at least) thinks they’re a couple who practically live together. The words don’t bring fear or panic to mind. Instead Leonard feels...excited, hopeful, desperate to see Spock and find out if it’s true. 

He quickens his pace. 

As expected, Scott, Uhura, Hikaru and Spock are all in the waiting room. When he steps out to beckon them in, he sees the surprise of recognition on almost everyone’s faces. But Spock just looks relieved to see him. Their eyes lock for a moment and Leonard wants to wrap his arms around Spock and tell him he’s glad he’s okay, that he’d been worried. But then Spock looks away and the familiar blank expression slides over his features. It makes Leonard frown, but as much as he wants to grab Spock by the shoulders and kiss him, now that he thinks it maybe wouldn’t be unwelcome, he has a job to do. 

They follow him back, ignoring the complaints of people who've been waiting much longer. Leonard takes them to the corridor outside the room where Jim is busy sleeping, and tells them he'll be okay. When he mentions the scar, Uhura's hand flies to her mouth.

“ Idiot,” she says, and no one argues.

“ Thanks for looking after him, doc,” Scott says, and Leonard shrugs. It's what he does, after all.

He lets them in to visit, but Spock hangs back, the curtain around Jim’s bed separating them from the rest of the band. Leonard studies him carefully, searching for any injuries just in case, and at the same time searching for some confirmation of what Jim had said. 

“ Thank god you're okay,” he says, and Spock's expression softens. “I was worried.”

“ Jim was the only one in any danger. He picked a fight with someone who outweighed him by at least a hundred pounds. He never stood a chance. But I should have been keeping a more careful watch. He'd received some bad news.”

Leonard raises an eyebrow in question, and Spock glances towards Jim's bed for a moment, then sighs. “Pavel broke it off with him. For good. Jim doesn't handle breakups well. And he doesn't handle being single well.”

“ I see,” Leonard says. He feels bad for Jim. He can empathise even. He’d done plenty of stupid things when Jocelyn had asked for a divorce, when he’d had to admit the relationship was over. But mostly the damage he’d inflicted was internal, targeted to his own liver and heart. 

Spock looks at him, long and hard. “You should tell him how you feel,” he says. “This is your shot. He'll be in another destructive relationship within a day, otherwise.”

Leonard recoils, surprised by Spock's words. He hadn't realised Spock had picked up on whatever it was he felt for Jim. Had felt for Jim. He'd thought it was some childish love at first sight, at first, and then maybe lust. Now...now it wasn't that at all. Pity, maybe. Maybe that was the closest description to what he felt. He'd thought Jim was different, that he was the persona he portrayed on stage. Oozing in confidence and self belief and all of the things Leonard wished he had. 

Instead he was reckless, too reckless for Leonard's liking. He'd already spent too much time with someone who was reckless with his heart, and he had no intention of going down that road again.

“ I...what are you talking about?”

Spock looks completely unimpressed. “Do you think I don't see the way you look at Jim? It's the same way everyone looks at him. There were a handful of times where I thought maybe you were looking at me that way, but…”

“Spock,” Leonard says softly. He reaches out a hand but Spock steps back, out of reach. 

“Tell me I’m wrong,” Spock says. “Tell me that you haven’t wanted from Jim what everyone wants from him.” He manages to sound both hurt and fiercely protective at the same time, and guilt twists in Leonard’s stomach. Spock isn’t wrong. He’d looked at Jim like an object, not a person. He’d thought of him as a distraction from the shittiness of life, and hadn’t even tried to learn anything about the man himself. He remembers the way Jim’s eyes had slid over his body and rejected him, and how humiliated he’d been. How he’d wished Jim would consider him as a whole, more than just a piece of meat. He definitely hadn’t treated Jim – Spock’s bandmate, friend, and brother, who is seemingly decent person when he isn’t trying to numb his pain with fistfights and, Leonard suspects, anonymous sex – even half as well as he’d wished Jim would treat him. 

Leonard feels his mouth twist. He’s angry at himself, disgusted even. And apologetic. He feels the weight of Spock’s gaze, waiting for him to confirm or deny. And he can’t lie. He gives Spock a helpless look, begging with his eyes for an easy out, a way not to admit how much of an asshole he’d been.  

Spock’s eyes flash with disappointment. 

“I am curious,” he asks, voice barely more than a whisper. “Were we ever really friends, or was I just an easy way to stay close to Jim?”

Leonard feels like he’s been slapped hard across the face. He gapes at Spock. “I...no, it's not like that. I mean...Spock...”

Spock's returning gaze is disappointed. “I should go and check on my friend,” he says, and his tone leaves no doubt that he doesn't consider Leonard to be one.

He disappears behind the curtain around Jim's bed, and when Leonard stops by later with the discharge paperwork, his head a mess of confusion and emotions carefully pushed down behind his professional exterior, Spock carefully avoids making eye contact.

~~~

Days pass without a single word from Spock. Leonard texts and calls and none of them are returned. He sends apologies and explanations, but not excuses. He doesn’t say the one thing he thinks might fix things. But the words scare him, and are the sort of thing he needs Spock to hear in person. 

On the weekend, he takes Jo for a lunch date, and she asks where Spock is. It makes his heart hurt and his head ache to see the disappointment in her eyes when he makes up an excuse. They have fun, but it feels like something’s missing. It’s a theme that seems to be running through all aspects of his life. 

At work, he's even grouchier than usual, to the point where Chapel pulls him aside and asks him to please stop being an asshole. He reigns it in as much as he can, particularly when he sees the sympathetic looks the interns shoot his way. Leonard isn’t surprised that trained doctors recognise heartbreak, but he owes it to them and himself to hide his feelings away while he’s at work. 

Leonard skips two Starfleet shows, because if Spock won't talk to him, he probably doesn't want to see him. Leonard doesn't want to see Jim either, although he has some professional curiosity about how the sutures are healing.

Mostly, he tries not to think about Jim, or Spock, or any of it, because he isn't a fan of being completely honest with himself when he can pretend nothing is wrong instead. 

But late at night, when the apartment feels as huge and empty as the vastness of space, he thinks about Spock's words. They're not untrue – he had lusted after Jim, wanted him in a base, animalistic way. Now that he thinks he understands more about who Jim is, those feelings are gone. Not because he finds Jim unattractive – he still has eyes, and no one is delusional enough to pretend Jim isn’t gorgeous – but because the part of him that needs to fix broken things knows that Jim needs to be surrounded by people who care about him, not people who want to use him.

The other meaning of Spock's words gives him more pause. There was a hope there, Leonard thinks, when he'd talked about Leonard looking at Spock instead of Jim. As if he wanted it, needed it. Would welcome it. He wonders what Spock had told the others about him, for Jim to think they were dating. It makes Leonard think about all of the ways he  _ had _ looked at Spock – wonderful, dependable Spock who made him smile and feel safe, who he thought was intelligent and handsome, safe and familiar, and who he'd wanted to kiss on more than one occasion.

Leonard is good at hiding his head in the sand, but he can’t deny that this whole time he'd been falling in love with Spock without really noticing it.

Leonard tries to imagine a future without waking up to find Spock trying to convince him that egg-free, dairy-free waffles were just as good as traditional ones. A future without watching Spock's dark head bent over his textbooks, studying for an exam, while Leonard catches up with paperwork. A future without hearing Spock and Jo's laughter combine

A future without Spock is days filled with loneliness, and a heart filled with nothing.

Leonard stays late at work, chases his tiredness with bourbon before bed in the hopes that exhaustion and drunkenness will chase away the dreams. Dreams about pale skin and careful, curious fingers dusting across his face. Of dark eyes, and ears that point ever so slightly at the top. Of strong arms and a warm body. Of safety and happiness and love. He suspects that if he made it to the bedroom, instead of curling up on the sofa where Spock had spent so many nights, the dreams would be less frequent. But he’s enough of a masochist that he thinks maybe he deserves the pain in his chest when he wakes up. He deserves the longing and regret for being so blind and stupid, and for hurting Spock. 

More days pass and Leonard wakes up one morning, half hanging off the sofa, with a sick realisation. It’s not going to get better than this, unless he does something about it. He thinks about how his life had been on pause since Jocelyn, and how he’d convinced himself it was enough, until Spock came along. 

Now that Leonard knows what it’s like to enjoy life again, he doesn’t want to go back to living on pause anymore. It takes him too many days to accept that fact. And then even longer to work up the courage to do something about it.

Leonard knows by now that Spock won't answer his phone, and for a moment he's tempted to contact one of the other bandmembers. But he doesn't know how they'll react, what Spock has told them or whether they'll trust him. And truth be told, he’s embarrassed to face them, especially Jim. 

Instead he goes to the band's Facebook page, still the only reason he has one of those damn accounts. He scrolls down and sees the list of upcoming shows, and smiles. It's fate, almost, if he believed in such a thing, that their next show is back at the dingy dive bar where he'd seen Starfleet for the first time. 

It’s immediately obvious what he needs to do. Go back to where it began, right the wrong that had him focused too much on one man who, maybe, can become his friend, and instead focus on the man who he is painfully, achingly in love with. The man he'd been in love with for a long time, but had been too stupid, too bullheaded to recognise.

~~~

When Leonard walks into the bar, he immediately goes to get a drink. He's hopped up on adrenaline, but he knows there's a chance his bravery will fail him. The familiarity of it – the bartender who nods in recognition, the stickiness of the floor, the smell of booze and bodies – is oddly reassuring. It’s tempting to stay by the bar, or take up his old favourite spot, but tonight is about changing things, so he downs his drink and leaves the empty glass on the bar. 

Scott sees him as soon as he makes his way towards the stage. He starts towards him, but Leonard holds up a hand to stop him. Trust me, he tries to convey without words.

The manager hesitates, then nods, and Leonard lets himself get lost in the music. The words are clever, inspiring, and the music is beautiful. Leonard knows what words are Spock’s now, even in the songs that are new to him. He knows Spock well enough to distinguish between his words and Jim’s. And he wonders now which, if any, Spock wrote about him. He hopes that Spock will forgive him at least enough to tell him. Because some of the lyrics cut so deeply, that Leonard hopes he’s not the cause of whatever pain is behind them. He wants to inspire the words that lift up the crowd with hope, not unite them in shared heartbreak. 

The band’s stage presence is so different than it had been on the first night Leonard had seen them. They’d been hesitant once, but now they act like they belong. Hikaru’s eyes are closed, hair flying as he keeps the beat in time with the pounding in the audience’s chests. Nyota radiates with confidence, strutting across the stage like she owns it. 

Jim moves as seductively as always, but Leonard sees more than the stage persona now. He notices the raw fragility in the vocals, the way his hands grasp the microphone as he forces out the words that echo around the room. He thinks that maybe Jim needs the acceptance of the crowd as much as they need him to smile down at them.  

There is a pink, painful line stretched across Jim's cheek. It's still healing and whenever he opens his mouth too wide, he winces. Leonard wants to tell him to take better care, but he's not a doctor tonight. He's a fan of the band, and a man in love. Nothing more.

It’s easy to turn his gaze away from Jim and the others. Because Spock on stage is beautiful. Under the lights his skin reflects green and gold, and his hair shines blue. There's a glow coming from inside him, that Leonard realises was always there. He'd been so distracted from Spock by the fireworks show that is Jim on stage that he hadn't registered the ethereal beauty that had been there the whole time, quietly in the background.

Leonard's eyes stay fixed on Spock for the rest of the set. And as soon as the applause starts to die down, and the encore is over, he elbows his way through the crowd, right to the front.

Jim and the others are already mingling. But Spock is unplugging his keyboard carefully, packing it away like he always does after a set. It takes Leonard three attempts of calling his name before Spock looks up.

When he sees Leonard, there's a split second of joy, then his face goes blank again. He turns away, pointedly ignoring Leonard.

Leonard isn't going to give up. He's spent too much of his life giving up on himself and what he wants. He's not going to do that now, and he's not giving up on Spock. He doesn’t expect it to be easy, doesn’t expect the forgiveness to be immediate, but he needs to try to make things right. 

He steps past the last few people in the way, and climbs up onto the stage. Spock doesn't notice until Leonard reaches out to still his hand from unplugging one of the amps.

Spock freezes.

“ What are you doing?” he asks. It's noisy in the bar, and although Spock's voice is quiet, Leonard 

can hear him perfectly.

“ I need to do something,” Leonard says, urgently, before Spock can shake his touch off. “Spock, look at me. Please.”

It takes a moment, but Spock eventually complies and meets his gaze.

“ I'm a fool,” Leonard says. “A terrible, blind, idiotic fool.”

“ You and Jim would be well suited then,” Spock says. It sounds like he's trying to be flippant, but his comment falls flat. “He’s still single. If that’s what you’re here for.”

“ You know it’s not,” Leonard says. “I don’t want anything from Jim, other than maybe friendship, just because he’s important to you. I’m not going to deny that there’s something enticing about him, that I don’t see what everyone else sees. But he’s not what I want.”

Spock lifts his chin, meeting Leonard's gaze in challenge. “Then what do you want?”

“ You,” Leonard says simply. He lets his hand drop, before Spock can turn away and break the connection himself. Nerves make his hands shake in a way that hundreds of dangerous surgeries haven’t, and he balls them into fists. “It was always you, but I was too damn blind to see. I wish I'd kissed you, months ago in that bar when I was drunk and maudlin, when all I could think of was what your mouth would taste like.”

Spock makes a sound of surprise, then sucks in a breath. He looks like he’s arguing with himself internally, and Leonard bites his lip, waits and hopes. 

“I wish I'd kissed  _ you _ ,” Spock says eventually.  “The day we found out about the recording contract. I wish I'd let my phone ring and ring, and carried on holding you instead.” 

Leonard’s shoulders slump a little in relief. He hadn’t been wrong in his hopes that Spock had felt the same this whole time, that there’d been a moment between them then, so close to changing everything. 

“ Is it too late?” Leonard asks, desperately hoping that the answer is no.

Spock hesitates, and Leonard lifts his hand to gently touch Spock's jaw. His hand contrasts with Spock's paleness, but it looks like it belongs there.

Before Spock can protest, before Leonard can lose the courage he’s plucked up, he surges forward and kisses him.

He's met with resistance at first, and his heart plummets. He’d imagined something different, some response. But as Leonard moves to pull away, Spock kisses him back, strong arms wrapping around his waist to pull him in. 

Spock kisses in a calm, methodical manner, tongue curious and probing. There's a sweetness to the kiss, a longing that makes Leonard's heart ache for all of the missed kisses, all of the moments they could have had if he hadn't been so foolish. He'd looked at Jim with so much disdain, for his recklessness with his health as he'd lay in the hospital bed, but hadn't he been just as reckless with not only his heart, but Spock's, too?

He traces Spock's jaw and ear with his fingers, memorising as much as he can, in case this is both the first and last time. It will destroy him, he thinks, if it is the last time, but at least he’ll have tried. 

A loud whoop echoes around the room, making Leonard and Spock jerk apart. They look up as one to find a crowd of faces turned their way. In the middle of the sea of bodies, Jim is pumping his arm in the air. Next to him, Nyota lifts her beer bottle in acknowledgement, and Hikaru raises an eyebrow, but is smiling. 

“ I knew you were that guy!” Jim shouts, before being dragged away by a pretty young thing who is trying to run his fingertips across the scar on his cheek. 

Leonard tilts his head forward to chuckle, forehead meeting Spock's.

Their eyes meet, and Leonard forgets about anyone else in the room. 

“ I wish we'd done that sooner,” Leonard says, and Spock hums out an agreement.

“ Is there...can we,” Leonard pulls back and sighs. “Is there any way to go back to what we had before?”

Spock's face clouds over. “To our friendship?” He sounds wary, unsure.

Leonard shakes his head, then changes his mind, and nods instead. “Wasn't it more than that? Weren't we always more than that? All we need to change is you sleeping in the bed instead of on the sofa.”

Spock presses his lips to the corner of Leonard's mouth, and Leonard takes that as agreement. 

“Perhaps that's not the  _ only _ thing that needs to change,” he says, and Leonard smiles.

“ Perhaps not,” he agrees.

He kisses Spock again, their bodies pressed as close together as they can be, on a stage, fully clothed, and with an audience of drunk people looking on.

“ It would be logical to at least try,” Spock says agreeably when they break apart to breathe.

A surge of happiness bursts inside Leonard's chest, strong enough that he’s grateful for the steadiness of Spock’s body to lean against.

“ Let's get out of here,” he says. “And on the way home, I want you to tell me about the new songs. They were beautiful, as always.”

Spock looks pleased. He smiles at Leonard, the same wide smile that Leonard has only seen once before. He twines their fingers together and pulls Spock off the stage and through the crowd, out into the cold night's air. They walk home, and Spock talks, gesturing up at the night sky, where the stars are hidden by light pollution, but are still shining down on them. 

He tells Leonard just how many of the songs written over the past months are about him (a lot), and how many more he wants to write (an infinite number), and what the lyrics mean, even the hurt, painful ones. And then he tells Leonard how many moments over their friendship he wanted to press his hands to Leonard’s skin and kiss him senseless.

Leonard isn't a man for whom words come easily. He's more about actions, and so by the time they reach his apartment he's busy showing Spock just how much he wants him, how much he needs him, how much he loves him. They tumble through the door, and Leonard kicks it closed behind them. The bedroom seems light years away, so he pushes Spock down onto the comfortable sofa. It’s the perfect place, he thinks, to start making up for all of their lost time. 

  
  



End file.
